Pride and Peppercorns
by UnSinkableGecko
Summary: People are not presents, and love should never be forced; But neither of these facts matter when Greyback is in charge of your life. Remus and his newly gifted mate learn to live and maybe even love their lives together.


**So, I love the marriage law/ arranged marriage trope in fanfics, but I had this idea and haven't seen one like it yet. Usually its the Ministry that forces the marriage... Ect. So I hoped to give this a shot. I LOVE Remadora but sometimes its good to challenge yourself.**

**I hope you enjoy!**

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Remus Lupin threw back his third shot of the morning, hoping somewhere between the whiskey and the exhaustion from working the warehouse floor all night, he could dull the ache growing in his bones from the fattening of the moon. His head joined the choir of pains, and he poured himself another shot, throwing it down as quickly as it was poured.

Figuring to himself that four was enough, as he was starting to finally feel the warming sink into his muscles.

It was just another thing he hated about the damned lyncathropy. It took far more alcohol to get drunk than the average bloke his size.

He kicked off his old, worn work boots and abandoned them under the kitchen table, walking heavily over to the couch in what could be called his sitting room, if he were feeling generous about his flat; where he fell heavily onto the soft cushions. The kitchen and sitting area ran together, making the trip shot, though his entire body felt at least twice as heavy as the norm, so even this distance added to his fatigue.

Remus closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of the other tenants around him. Upstairs, the Grousemen's new baby was crying for breakfast. To his left, Mr. Hoyle's TV was playing, though Remus knew he was at work. The older gentlemen had once confided in him that 'leaving the tele home makes potential thieves believe someone is home', but mostly it was just an annoyance for Remus. The sounds of cars and bicycle bells rang up from the street. A normal, busy morning.

Remus took his wand from his vest pocket and lazily waved it over his head, bringing much needed silence to his home. He sighed a bit, content with himself for the moment, and felt himself drifting into a light sleep. He had even began to snore when his peace was disturbed.

His door moved under the force of whomever was beating upon the other side. Remus' bloodshot eyes opened suddenly, the light stinging him as he gathered his wits. Hard, spaced out, deliberate knocks that shook the door on its frame kept coming. Remus once again drew his wand, and crept as quietly as possible over to the door, peering out of the spy hole to the other side.

The other side stood a heavily scarred man, who looked like he may be in his fifties, but had lived a hard life. He looked more annoyed than anything, and continued to knock as he constantly looked around at his surroundings, as if something or someone may attack at any moment. Remus knew exactly where he was from, though he'd never seen him before.

"Yes?" Remus called, his voice husky and thick from sleep and whiskey.

"Message for Lupin." The man replied. "Believe you know from who."

"Go on, then. Deliver your message." Remus growled back.

"This 'ere. Its a muggle neighborhood, innit?" He smirked. "Really wan' me hollerin' through the door?"

At this, Remus pulled the door open all at once, and aimed his wand directly at the man's chest. "Right. In." He commanded, and stepped back just enough to let the man in, then he shut the door.

"Your a right hospitable one, aren't ya?" He man commented, unphased at the wand being aimed at him.

"What does Greyback want?" Remus demanded through gritted teeth.

"To congratulate ya, I'd assume." The man shrugged. Remus squinted his eyes at the other werewolf, confused. He nearly lowered his aim, but then he readjusted himself.

"What?" Remus demanded.

"You've had a mate chosen." The man replied with a slight grin. "Aren't you a lucky one."

"I'm- WHAT?" Remus demanded, stepping forward, wand at the messenger's throat.

"Calm down, young blood. Surely you know how the pack works, yeah?" He almost scoffed. "A'course not. You never come 'round much. Can't say I blame ya if you can find a way to make a life without 'em." He looked Remus over, sighed and reached out gently, lowering Remus' wand. "When there comes of age a lady who falls under the ownership o' the pack, Greyback chooses her a mate. Protection for some, condemnation for others. Seems like yours will be luckiest o' the lot, lately."

Remus felt physically sick. The elder werewolf was correct, he had kept away from the pack as much as possible, checking in when required but never being a resident. Still, he was a marked member and under Greyback, whether he liked it or not.

"Alright, boy?" The other man growled, seeing the paled look at Remus' face as he tried to sort out what had just been told to him.

"I-" Remus tried to respond, but he walked over to his couch and sat back down, rubbing his temples.

"I hate to come and then leave you in such a mess, but I have two more of these to deliver." He said, stepping over to where Remus sat. He held out a large, heavy envelope. "She's in here."

"What happens if I decline?" Remus questioned. "I assume that is an option?"

"Oh, it is an option." The man confirmed. "But only for you. If you decline- He'll either kill her, or worse. Put her in 'service', I assume you know what that means..." He said, and he disapperated on the spot.

"Rude." Remus mumbled, but he flicked his wand over toward the curtains, letting some light in for him to see.

Carefully he took out a letter, what seemed to be a biography or sorts, and a photograph. Then at the bottom, a heavy, silver coin.

The young woman in the picture was in a Ravenclaw sweater, her hair half up in a bun, sitting at a table. She glanced up at whoever had taken the picture and gave a very halfhearted smile, but kept her mouth tightly shut, before looking back down at her work before her. It was at the library, near the widows. Remus knew the spot well. He watched her for a moment, furrowing her brow and making notes. She was lovely; Warm sunkist skin, her hair straight and chestnut brown. She had a small 'beauty-mark' like mole below her left eye. When she glanced at the camera, Remus could see the warm amber colored iris' that marked her as a lycanthropic victim, and on her right jaw and around her neck were some very faint scars. But how she was infected, he did not yet know. Assuming the other documents in the envelope he'd been sent would answer his questions, he carefully laid the whole thing out, starting to review the information.

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Across the isle, at a castle in Scotland, a young witch has just been handed the most dread gift of her eighteenth birthday. She should be excited about the day trip to Hogsmade the following day with her friends, or even making plans for after Graduation, because the world should be wide open to a bright young Ravenclaw. She should be celebrating that Harry Potter had done such a service to the school that finals were cancelled. Instead, she found herself hurrying through the halls, desperately in search of one of her trusted Professors.

Alana Grabbling had been close to both Professor Sprout and Professor McGonagall since she was first in Hogwarts, even though she was not in either of their respective houses. They were the most welcoming to her, the two of them, who she later found out were best friends, knew all about her condition- or as much as they could for a born-not-bitten wolf such as herself. Lycan, Greyback called her.

She shuddered at his very memory. Greyback had been a looming presence in her entire life, as he had total control over her father, who eventually died in service to the pack. Her mother, who she didn't remember at all, had left them soon after Alana started to show signs of being a bit 'furry' herself. When her father died, she had no other choice as a fifteen year old but to accept his conditional protection- and the terms that came with it. She had no other family, and her friends were all too young to offer any help- not that she'd asked any of them. They had only been growing more distant as the years drew on, and often left her out of plans.

This is how Alana came to hold the envelope. Her end of the deal. She had opened it to find only a small slip of paper containing a name, nothing more. She hoped it was someone who would have been an alumni that McGonagall or Sprout would remember. They'd both been teaching at the school your years, surely if this person had gone to Hogwarts, they would remember.

She tired the Transfiguration teacher's office first, and finding no one in neither the office or classroom, she immediately headed out to the gardens where the Herbology greenhouses. There were students around at a few of the planters, but Professor Sprout and Professor McGonagall were both sitting in the back corner, enjoying a cup of tea and keeping an eye on the odd few pupils still wandering through. McGonagall spotted her first, and immediately stood, waving her over.

"Sit down, child. You look a fright." Sprout instructed, nodding to the other chair for Alana to sit. She was a bit out of breath, but nodded and sat as she was told.

"What in Merlin's name has you so pale?" McGonagall demanded, her brow furrowed with concern.

"I-" Alana panted, then she took a deep breath, blew it out, and tried to speak again. "I turned eighteen today."

"Happy Birthday." The witches replied in unison.

"Thanks, I guess. That isn't the point. I- I was paired." She confessed, pushing some of her fallen dark locks behind her ear.

"Oh." Professor Sprout said quietly.

"That was quick." McGonagall commented, the distaste for Greyback's actions apparent.

"I was hoping you might, you know. If he was someone who graduated from Hogwarts. I was rather hoping you could tell me something. Anything. He made me provide a photo and everything to turn over, and all I got was a name." She thrust out her clinched fist, and Professor Sprout took the envelope and carefully opened it. She blinked a few times, and stifled a smile. Professor McGonagall did not seem pleased with her friend's reaction, and snatched the paper from her hands. She smoothed it, and peered through her glasses, looked up at the other two witches and she too, grinned.

"So?" Alana demanded.

"Oh, Miss Grabbling. You couldn't have done better if you'd tried." Professor Sprout cooed. "Remus was always a favorite of mine. Such a sweet, kind boy."

"Quiet, studious." McGonagall added. "He'll be very good to you."

"He was always so mature, oh. And Handsome!" Sprout continued. "He'd be about thirty... thirty one?"

"Thirty one." McGonagall confirmed. "Thirteen years. Not a huge difference. In a few years it won't even be noticeable."

Alana breathed a large sigh of relief. The kind things the teachers had to say about her future match were good to hear, but it was a much bigger relief to know that he wasn't the sort to harm her.

"So, what should I do?" Alana pondered. "School ends in two more weeks. Then I'll have to turn myself over to the mercy of the pack, to be re-gifted again... Should I reach out? Write to him?"

"Invite him for tea." McGonagall said. "You can use my office to meet. I'll be glad to let him in, as the Headmaster wanted me to get in touch with him about some other business, anyway." She hummed for a second. "Better yet- I will invite him, then you can come and meet him. Tomorrow afternoon."

"I-Ah. Sure. Okay." Alana nodded, nerves knotting up in her stomach. She'd had little time to process the past few moments, and her head was spinning, everything was snowballing faster and faster.

"I have a picture in my office, from his seventh year at Hogwarts, if you want to come by and peek after dinner?" Professor McGonagall offered. Again, Alana nodded, her thoughts trying to swim through the tidal wave of new information.

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you both, so much." She nodded, and hurried off for the Ravenclaw tower, feeling like she was in desperate need of a nap.

Tomorrow afternoon was just much too soon.

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